


His Honor

by Ryu_Reikai_Akuma



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cock Cages, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Humiliation, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys, Sex for Interrogation, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 17:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma/pseuds/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To honor a peace treaty, Thranduil gifted Thorin with a slave. Not trusting Thranduil’s cunning reputation, Thorin tried to extract information from his new slave. However, the slave was stubborn and seemed to carry a secret of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Honor

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Honour
> 
> I got this prompt ages ago but my first version ended up being longer than I predicted. It will (probably, if work and sanity permit me) be posted as a multichapter fic but for now here’s my second attempt at it. It’s written after a long period of endless deadlines at work which in my case generally means that I unleash my frustration on my favorite characters. Brace yourself.

“To honor this event, I’d like to present you with a gift.”

Thorin’s hand paused as it reached his goblet. Thorin looked at Thranduil in suspicion. He didn’t fully trust the king but Mirkwood was a powerful kingdom and although Thorin had faith in his own army, he knew that alliance was better than a war that would likely cost the lives of far too many. That’s why he was sitting in a tent in the middle of a neutral region, celebrating a peace agreement with wine, food, and music. Still, Thranduil’s smug smile and greedy eyes made him wary. This was a peace that would not last, Thorin knew.

Thorin glanced at Balin beside him and, upon receiving a nod, leaned back to regard Thrainduil as calmly as he could. “That’s very generous of you,” He said, carefully concealing his suspicion.

The predatory smile on Thranduil’s face was alarming. On Thorin’s other side, Dwalin shifted closer. His best friend, guard, and trusted general was always the first to spot danger. Thorin always trusted his judgment and this time wasn’t an exception. However, they were in a tent in the center of their joined camp, their weapons removed to show no ill intention, and there’s peace to be maintained. Thorin discreetly signaled Dwalin to stay put.

“Bring King Thorin’s present here!” Thranduil ordered one of his servants.

Something about the way the pale lean faces of Thranduil’s subjects lit up at the mention of the present unsettled Thorin. What did the king had in mind? Was he going to breach the trust mere hours after they signed the treaty? Thranduil was famous for both his ploys and his military strength. Only months ago his army had attacked and conquered a small mountain kingdom after promising peaceful negotiation, leaving the once beautiful kingdom little more than a funeral pyre. He claimed that his soldiers had been attacked first but words of mouth said that it was his soldiers who agitated a group of civilians. It wasn’t the first time such rumor spread and, based on his intelligence, Thorin was inclined to believe it. Thorin had soldiers outside the tent and the tents of his own army weren’t far away. If an attack were to happen, they surely would hear something. Still, Thorin wished he had his weapons with him. Thranduil was not to be trusted, whether or not there was a peace agreement.

The silk curtains which were the door of the tent parted, admitting an unarmed soldier. Thorin relaxed but his curiosity was immediately piqued when he noticed that the soldier was holding a thick gold chain. Thorin’s eyes widened when the curtains moved again to admit his present.

Walking toward him was a youth whose wrists and ankles were restrained by gold shackles dotted with small sapphires. A gold collar around his neck was connected to the chain the soldier was holding. His dark hair was partially tied behind his head and decorated with glittering jewels. Intricate necklaces covered a large part of his torso but still left a teasing glimpse of the skin beneath, some of them connected to gold armbands. At first, Thorin thought it was one of Thranduil’s kin, but his dark hair and eyes as well as stronger features informed Thorin that they weren’t related, which further confused Thorin. Why was the youth dressed in such luxury?

What most shocked Thorin, however, was what the boy wore below the waist. He was covered in near transparent blue silk with high slits on both sides. A thin gold band around his waist which kept the fabric in place. Beneath the silk, something glittered. Thorin couldn’t quite recognize what it was but it didn’t matter.

A slave. Thranduil gave him a slave. And not just any slave. His clothing, or lack thereof, clearly showed what service he was intended to provide. Yet, the way he looked at Thorin, the way he held his head high and the sharp gaze he directed toward Thorin were the furthest things from submission expected from one in such a low station. As Thorin assessed him, the slave said nothing, his lips firmly pressed together, but his face clearly showed his displeasure to be put in his position.

“What do you think?”

Thorin tore his gaze from the slave to Thranduil. The tall king was grinning diabolically, cruelty made his eyes shine. Thorin recognized the look of a man whose conscience was eaten away by bottomless desire. Distaste and anxiety grew within Thorin. Nothing good ever came out of that look. The question was: What exactly did Thranduil plan?

Thorin returned his eyes to the slave and was surprised when he discovered the slave glaring at Thranduil. Thorin had thought that the look he had been given previously was sharp, but the way the youth looked at Thranduil was full of rage and hate. Shackled hands curled into fists, clearly longing to hurt the wicked king. Clearly the only thing stopping him from doing anything rash was the fact that he was barely able to move with all the chains restraining him. The jewelries covering the slave started to make sense. He was a war spoil.

Balin cleared his throat quietly, reminding Thorin of Thranduil’s question. “He’s lovely,” Thorin replied.

The slave glanced at him sharply but his anger was but a shadow compared to the loathing he projected toward Thranduil. Thranduil laughed, joined by his people around him. If he realized how much the slave hated him (and he couldn’t possibly miss the blazing anger in those eyes) he didn’t care about it. Or perhaps he relished in it. That seemed more likely for his kind.

“Excellent! Now go to your new master!” Thranduil ordered the slave.

The slave didn’t move, glaring at Thranduil instead, so the soldier pushed him forward, nearly making him trip because his feet were limited in their movements. Once more, Thranduil’s people laughed and cheered, clearly enjoying the unkind treatments toward the slave. Some of Thorin’s own people chuckled, but they were also wary, carefully observing Thranduil and paying close attention to their own king’s reaction.

The slave stood behind Thorin quietly. Although his eyes said that he would have cursed Thorin and Thranduil in a million languages if he could speak, he seemed completely harmless. Thorin forgot about him as dancers entered the tent and his goblet and plate were refilled. He wanted to discuss the unexpected gift with Balin and Dwalin, but he pretended as if nothing was wrong. Something was definitely happening. Thranduil was playing with them somehow. But, this was a delicate matter which should be talked about in secrecy. Here, where enemies were far too close for comfort, home was too far for safety, and webs of deceits were weaved around him, Thorin must contain himself. He shouldn’t provoke Thranduil.

“Do you not like your gift?” Thranduil suddenly asked, tilting his head to the side quizzically, as a group of musician exited the tent.

Thorin turned his attention to Thranduil, wondering what the question might entail. “I do,” He replied carefully.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and Thorin could feel eyes of everyone in the tent turning toward him, waiting for his reaction. Balin nodded imperceptibly to Thorin to signal him to appease Thranduil. Straightening his shoulders, Thorin looked at his new slave and patted his thigh.

“Come.”

The slave didn’t move, looking at Thorin as if he had demanded something outrageous. This time there was no soldier to push him forward so Thorin pulled his arm. The slave made a surprised sound as he was made to sit on Thorin’s thigh and lowered his eyes when Thranduil laughed loudly in delight. For the first time since Thorin saw him, his glare softened. But instead of submission, he had a look of shame. That look didn’t suit him, Thorin thought. He preferred the slave full of fire and vengeful spirit.

Thorin caressed the slave’s bared thigh to gain a reaction. Sure enough, a glare was quickly directed toward him and Thorin found himself smirking in satisfaction. His hands wandered, exploring the young body, making his slave squirm and bite his lip. The slave was rather lean, but he was well-built, his muscles hiding strength often found in fighters. He would put up quite a fight, Thorin thought headily, his body slowly reacting to the proximity. He enjoyed making his partners submit to him and he had a feeling that this slave would be his greatest challenge yet. The fact that the slave openly despised Thranduil only made Thorin’s interest grew.

“Feed me,” Thorin ordered.

Chains clinked as the slave took a piece of fruit front Thorin’s plate and fed it to Thorin. His hands were shaking in nervousness and embarrassment but from the way he clenched his jaw, he was obviously determined not to appear weak. Amused, Thorin skirted his fingers on the edge of the slave’s nipple to test his control. A gasp and a glare made Thranduil laughed as the fruit fell to the ground.

The perfume his new slave put on allured Thorin and the ale he drank from the goblet the slave offered intoxicated him. While still wary of Thranduil’s plan, Thorin grew more distracted by the boy on his thigh. He wasn’t bad looking-no, far from it, he was quite handsome indeed. The fact that he was better-built than most slaves increased his attractiveness in Thorin’s eyes. It would be a great pleasure to pin him down in bed and make him whimper and beg or have him on top of Thorin, abandoning pride in favor of pleasure.

Growing impatient, Thorin slipped his hand into the flimsy silk which barely offered modesty and reached between the slave’s legs, making the slave jump. Thorin’s eyebrow raised when instead of bare skin, he encountered metal. He traced it curiously and discovered that it was a small padlocked cage holding the slave’s cock and stones. He slipped his fingers between the thin bars, caressing soft flesh, drawing a sharp gasp from his slave. From the corner of his eyes, Thorin could see Thranduil smirking but ignored it as he sent his fingers stroking and torturing. The slave whimpered, squirming on Thorin’s thigh, as his organ valiantly tried to get hard but was eventually held down by the cage. His skin was flushed beautifully in arousal and Thorin was unable to resist from leaving a mark on his neck as he pinched his nipple.

For the first time since he came to the tent, the slave made a sound. He cried out sharply, arching his back instinctively into Thorin’s touch. Then, realizing what he had done, he hid his face in Thorin’s hair, his hands shaking as laughter and jeers erupted around him. His desire inflamed, Thorin sought the slave’s entrance to get more reaction and found yet another surprise. There was something flat between the slave’s cheeks. When Thorin experimentally pulled it, the slave moaned to his ear before biting his lip in embarrassment.

Curious and aroused, Thorin bent the slave over the table. He pushed the silk covering the slave’s bottom aside to investigate the strange object. As with his jewelries, it was gold. When Thorin drew it out, he discovered that it had a narrow stem which gradually widened. He stopped at the widest part, no wider than two of his fingers, watching the slave shook and squirmed as his entranced clutched greedily over the object, trying to draw it in. The caged cock was flushed but unable to fight its restraint. Thorin pushed the object back inside the slave and pulled it out again over and over, making the slave whimper quietly and rock back and forth to seek release he couldn’t have.

“He is untouched,” Thranduil said, taking Thorin’s attention away from the tortured slave. He smirked as his people mocked the slave’s innocence. On the table, the boy tried to hide his face behind his dark hair. “Would you like to remedy that?”

Thorin looked at his slave, the way he pushed back to the slow thrusts of the object, the way his squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip raw, the way his virgin entrance stretch to accommodate the cold object. His cock throbbed at the idea of deflowering such a lovely creature, introducing him to the pleasure of the flesh. Thorin ran his hand over damp back and pushed the object firmly back inside. Slowly, the slave opened his eyes to look at Thorin. He looked resigned to his fate but underneath that resignation, Thorin recognized steely strength of mind, refusal to submit. What a difficult slave. Thorin ached to make him yield. “Bring him to my tent.”

Thranduil laughed in delight and stood up amidst the celebratory cheers. He came to Thorin’s table and reached into his sash to pull out a key hung by a necklace. He made sure to dangle it in front of the slave’s face before handing it to Thorin. “Enjoy your present.”

Thorin gritted his teeth, feeling patronized. He waved his hand to tell his servant to take the slave away. Thranduil was definitely planning something with this slave and if the wicked king wouldn’t reveal the plan, Thorin would extract it from the slave and took his pleasure while doing it.

“I will.”

* * *

After leaving the celebration, Balin and Dwalin discussed the situation with Thorin. Dwalin volunteered to make the slave talk but Thorin rejected the idea, keen on making the slave talk himself. The argument took precious time Thorin could use to enjoy the young slave, rising his ire. Fortunately, before the argument escalated into a fight, Balin declared that Thorin’s words were law but insisted to wait outside his tent with Dwalin in case something unwanted happened.

Thorin entered his tent in a bad mood but his rage subsided when he saw what was waiting for him on his bed. The slave laid there, the chain attached to his collar was connected to the frame of Thorin’s bed. While his hands were still restrained, his legs weren’t, giving easy access for when Thorin mount him. The sheer material which offered a mockery of modesty had been removed, leaving him bare for Thorin to see.

The slave watched avidly as Thorin removed his clothes. He was visibly nervous, his hands curling into fists and his chest rising and falling rapidly. His entire body tensed when Thorin stood by the bed in only his breeches and with the key Thranduil gave him hanging on a necklace around his neck.

“So,” Thorin began, “why did Thranduil give you to me?” Thorin narrowed his eyes when as an answer the slave pursed his lips and turned his face away from Thorin. “Speak, or do you not have a tongue?”

Thorin wasn’t surprised when the slave stubbornly refused to talk. In fact, he had expected it. Dwalin had his strength, but Thorin knew subtler methods to get his way. The proud slave might be challenging, but he was sure that before the night was over, the youth’s tongue would be loose enough to spill the truth and pleasure him.

“I can see that you dislike him,” Thorin said, earning a quiet scoff from the slave. “ _loathe_ him,” Thorin corrected. “But you still obey him. Why?”

This time, when he received no answer, Thorin pulled long dark hair roughly, forcing the slave to look at him with a pained gasp. Calmly, the king took a vial which had been thoughtfully put on a table by the bed and showed it to the slave. “Speak, boy, or this will be a very long night.”

The slave’s eyes widened fearfully, staring at the vial and then the bulge which had started to form in Thorin’s breeches. He swallowed thickly. “I can’t tell you anything. I’m not allowed to,” He spoke for the first time, his voice steady despite his predicament.

Thorin released the slave’s hair. “You’re scared that he’ll hurt you? Worry not, you’re mine now. I won’t let him touch you,” Thorin said, possessiveness deepening his voice. Yes, the slave was his now and he craved to fully claim him.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” The slave said quietly, looking down.

“Who, then?”

However, the slave seemed to be finished talking for now. He tightened his lips and looked away, determined to keep his secret. Thorin knew this time harsh treatment wouldn’t affect him. It was time for what he had intended to do since he had his slave on his lap. Thorin climbed to the bed, startling the slave. The youth shifted away but the chain prevented him from going far. As a last resort, he pressed his legs together but it didn’t mean much for Thorin.

“I will not stop until you talk,” Thorin warned, placing his hands on the boy’s knees. He waited for the slave to change his mind and was secretly pleased when he didn’t. Roughly, he spread the slave’s legs and settled between them before they could close again. With the slave’s current position, his caged cock and stuffed entrance were in full display. Not even a king as strong as Thorin could resist staring at the view, drinking in the sight of desire which wouldn’t be spent without his permission and hole prepared for his pleasure. Embarrassed, the slave tried to push him away with his bound hands, but Thorin grabbed them easily and pinned them above the slave’s head. “Speak. What does Thranduil plan to do by giving you to me?”

“Nothing to harm you,” The slave answered in a rush of breath.

“No? What then? He clearly has something in mind.” Once again, Thorin was answered by silence. So, Thorin ran his free hand up the slave’s side until his thumb brushed against his nipple, a sensitive spot, as he had discovered earlier. As the slave gasped, Thorin rocked his hips, grinding his erection against the youth’s bottom, making his intention very clear. “Answer me or I will continue.”

To Thorin’s surprise, the slave widened his legs, presenting himself to Thorin. He turned his head to the side, a blush staining his cheeks beautifully. He trembled in nervousness but his decision was made. In his breeches, Thorin’s cock throbbed in want.

“Very well,” Thorin said, releasing the slave’s hands.

Thorin impatiently pushed the gold necklaces to the side, revealing heaving chest, and leaned down to take a nipple into his warm mouth while rolling the other bud with his fingers, teasing them until they were stiff. Below him, the slave moaned quietly and arched his back, enjoying the king’s attention. Thorin shifted the youth so that every time he squirmed he would grind his bottom against Thorin’s hardness. The sensation was maddening. The soft fabric of Thorin’s breeches tortured him as his hard cock slid between exposed cheeks. He longed to simply pushed into the virgin entrance, but quick release wasn’t what he aimed for tonight. Groaning quietly, Thorin released the wet nipple with a sloppy lick and latched his mouth instead on the slave’s neck to leave his marks.

The slave moaned and whimpered but didn’t try to fight Thorin. He bucked his hips when Thorin teased his cock with his fingertips, lightly caressing the smooth flesh. Thorin could feel it fill and fight futilely against the gold bars. Thorin wondered if Thranduil had teased the slave this way before, making him writhe and whimper but stay soft within his gold cage. The slave cried out when Thorin bit his shoulder.

“How long have you been wearing this? Days? Weeks? Months?” Thorin asked, wrapping his hand around the cage, tormenting the slave with body warmth and no release. He licked the slave’s nipple one more time before sitting up so he could see the slave better. The youth’s body was flushed, his hair a mess, his eyes glazed, his lips puffy, and, most gloriously, his cock was red but kept down by the cage. “When was the last time you had your hand on your cock? The last time it’s hard and dripping? The last time you came?” The slave moaned, his flush deepening. He looked beautiful and desirable, an innocent temptation below Thorin, and all his to touch and take. The king licked his lips and reached under the trapped stones. Thorin pulled the strange object invading the slave slightly then pushed it back in again, over and over, in a speed not remotely satisfying but perfect for teasing. Sure enough, the boy made a pretty whining sound below him and rolled his hips. “If you speak, you may come tonight,” Thorin said breathlessly, enthralled by the sight on the virgin entrance stretching and gripping the object, unwilling to let it go.

Under him, his slave writhed and moaned, pushing back against the intrusion. Hungry, so hungry for pleasure. Thorin was becoming desperate to feel the boy around him, the tight grip around his cock begging him to stay and stretch and fill the pretty slave. He caressed the tense muscles of the slave’s abdomen to calm him. Pain wouldn’t break the youth. Pleasure, however…

With one last shove, Thorin then removed the object and carelessly threw it away. He oiled his fingers hastily, making sure that it’s slick and would not cause anything more than discomfort. The slave was still trying to regulate his breathing when Thorin’s hands returned between his legs. Thorin gently pushed one thigh to spread it wider as he stared hungrily at the loose hole which begged for something to hold.

The slave gasped quietly when Thorin slowly pushed a thick finger into him, but he didn’t fight. Instead, he lifted his hips, trying to draw the digit further inside him. His hips undulated gently, so unlike the rushed desperation he showed when the toy was used on him. He was enjoying this particular pleasure a lot more, the pleasure of having something warm and yielding inside him. “Did they do this to you? Did they spread you open on their filthy fingers and tease you when you can’t even get hard?” The slave whined, his eyes shut tight. Unable to resist, Thorin pushed another finger into the slave. The tight channel accommodated the width, but it’s still a very tight fit. Thorin licked his lips. “Or,” He whispered to the youth’s ear. “Did you do it to yourself?”

As he said those words, his fingers located a small spot and caressed it gently. The reaction was instant. The slave moaned loudly, arching his back sharply and pushing back onto Thorin’s hand. Thorin let the boy ride his hand, knowing it wouldn’t give him relief. He pressed gentle kisses on sweaty skin, admiring the defined trembling muscles and soft damp skin. Once in a while he stopped to leave marks or lick a drop of sweat, a mockery of a lover’s touch. All the while, he didn’t cease massaging the youth’s prostate, bringing him endless waves of pleasure with no hope to tip over the edge. Without the gold confinement, no doubt the boy would have already come, but as it was he could only rocked his hips brokenly while Thorin’s fingers played him like a harp. The slave was truly exquisite, Thorin couldn’t deny that. His cock wept at the thought of having him under him every night, pulling the most delightful responses from the youth and teaching him how to pleasure Thorin. He glanced at the slave’s slack mouth. If not for the fact that he wanted the slave to talk, he would put that mouth to better use, teaching him to relax his throat, lick every inch of Thorin, and suck his seed until Thorin was completely spent. Next time, Thorin promised himself.

“Please!” The slave cried out.

Hiding his smile by nuzzling the caged cock, Thorin asked, “Please what?”

The slave’s hips bucked desperately, clear liquid wet the tip but nothing more could or would come out as long as the cage stayed. “Please, let me come!” He begged.

“Then answer me. What does Thranduil want by giving you to me?” Thorin asked again.

“To…” The slave stopped himself, shaking his head. “I can’t! He’ll hurt…” He didn’t continue, only desperately pushing against Thorin’s wicked fingers.

Taking pity on the boy, Thorin eased the pressure on his prostate although the fingers remained moving in and out slowly and spreading carefully. Admiration grew within Thorin. Who knew what kind of sexual torture Thranduil had subjected the slave to all this time, and Thorin didn’t make it easier for him either. Many would choose to talk to have a chance at release, especially the younger ones. However, not this slave.

Thorin stroked and skimmed his lips over trembling thigh and abdomen, letting the slave catch his breath. “He’ll hurt someone you care for. Is that correct?” He waited for the boy’s nod before continuing. “Who? Your parents? Siblings? Lover? Your children? Or friends?”

The slave swallowed to wet his dry mouth. He gazed at Thorin, unspent lust in his dark eyes. Thorin longed to appease it but he stopped himself. “Neither,” The boy gasped out.

“Neither?” Thorin repeated, confused.

But the slave shook his head frantically, having found his reasons again. “I can’t tell you more! If you know who I am…” The slave’s eyes widened when he realized what he had said. He looked away, terrified.

“Who you are?” Thorin prompted but the slave wouldn’t speak anymore.

Thorin started to pity him. The slave clearly wasn’t a willing participant in Thranduil’s plan. If anything, he was a victim in it. Thorin wanted to spare him some cruelty. However, he must know what Thranduil kept from him and this slave still refused to talk, leaving him with no choice other than to continue. Thranduil was too cunning and Thorin didn’t want to take any risk.

He carefully pulled out his fingers and then finally removed his breeches which at this point was soaked from his pre-spend, revealing his hard and throbbing erection. The slave’s expression twisted in nervousness but he still kept his silence. Never mind. Thorin would make him talk. He had promise a long night if the silence remained, after all.

Thorin slicked his cock with oil, making sure the slave didn’t miss the sight. Indeed the youth stared at his hand for a while, his flush deepening, before his gaze travelled upward longingly toward the key hanging from Thorin’s necklace. Still, his lips remained closed, so Thorin sat between the boy’s legs and arranged them to bend with feet flat on the bed. The boy’s hole was still slightly stretched from the torturous preparation, tempting him. Thorin smeared oil on it then guided himself to his slave’s body.

There was slight resistance, but the ring of muscles eventually admitted the head of Thorin’s cock. The slave gasped sharply and tightened around Thorin, discomfort written all over his face. His soft velvety wall massaged Thorin’s sensitive cock, beckoning Thorin to go further, to have that slick warmth engulfing his manhood. Withholding a groan, Thorin caressed the youth’s thighs and sides. If he wanted to, he could ram in regardless of the boy’s condition, but pain wasn’t his objective.

“Relax. It’ll be easier,” Thorin said gruffly. He frowned when the slave laughed breathlessly.

“Why would you care about making this easier for me?” The slave asked, his gaze on Thorin sharp despite his situation.

“I only want you to talk, not suffer.” To prove this, Thorin covered the slave’s slightly smaller body with his own. He kissed and nuzzled his neck and chest, adding intimacy to the list of tactics he employed to gain information. His hands stroked tight muscles and discovered spots which made his slave moan and whimper. The slave’s bound fists were between their bodies, trembling slightly in the beginning, but as Thorin’s gentle ministration continued, the fists loosened and shy fingers touched Thorin’s chest. Taking this as a sign that he was ready, Thorin pushed forward carefully and steadily, not stopping until their hips were pressed together and he was as deep as he could be inside his slave.

Thorin took a moment to enjoy the tight massaging warmth around him while the youth tried to adjust himself to the new sensation. He looked anxious, confused, and uncomfortable, but not in pain. Fingers might be able to locate and massage his prostate until he wept with too much pleasure and the toy might be able to keep him filled all day long. But Thorin’s cock was wider, stretching his tight hole, and longer, reaching deeper into him. It throbbed with desire and dripped early spending inside him. Thorin could see the slave slowly being overcome by lust, slowly learning to want this, to have his king’s cock in him.

Smiling, Thorin started by slowly rocking into the slave, getting him used to taking his master’s cock. The slave was so soft and warm inside, clenching sporadically when Thorin pushed his cock back inside. The boy made airy whimpering sounds, inflaming the red hot lust flowing in Thorin’s veins. Thorin wrapped his arms around the youth to hold him close, burying his face in the slave’s neck, teasing the sensitive skin with his breaths.

Gradually, Thorin picked up his speed. Wet smacking sounds filled the tent as their bodies rocked together. When not overcome with hatred and worry, the slave was sweet and pliant. He had learnt how to meet every thrust into his body, tilting his hips to angle Thorin’s manhood in a way that made him groan. His soft breaths were music to Thorin’s ear. The way he instinctively wrapped his legs around Thorin’s waist aroused Thorin beyond belief. Between their damp chests, the boy’s hands clenched and unclenched in a hesitant caress. Thorin rewarded this by placing a kiss on his jaw and sliding a hand down between his legs.

The slave gasped sharply and squirmed prettily when Thorin wrapped his hand around his cage. He looked at Thorin as if Thorin had betrayed him, but Thorin didn’t react, only continuing to thrust into him. His free hand held the slave’s hip to keep it in place as the strength behind his thrusts started to shift the slave up the bed. The boy moaned and thrashed beneath him, desperate for release. Thorin could see it in his red restrained cock and the tightening of his muscle around Thorin’s erection. The thought of coming when the boy was unable to even get hard sent sparks of pleasure down his spine.

“Do you want release?” Thorin asked hoarsely, knowing he wouldn’t last for much longer, not with the slave so responsive and warm and tight around him. “Tell me what Thranduil plans to do with you. Tell me who you are.” Thorin punctuated this order by swiping his thumb over the damp slit of his slave’s cock.

The slave’s eyes widened as his hips bucked. “I’m Ki…” He bit his lip and closed his eyes.

Thorin waited but the slave spoke no more. However, he knew he nearly had what he wanted. Thorin paused and released the boy’s hip. With one arm to support him, he covered the slave with his body again. He stroked the boy’s damp tresses, preparing him for what was to come.

The next snap of his hips wrung a sharp cry from the youth. Thorin spared no mercy this time, giving the slave no time to adjust to the sudden change of pace. The slave was unable to push back now as every hard thrust sent Thorin seemed to try to drive Thorin deeper inside him. Thorin kept his other hand around the cage, a cruel promise of what could be: warm touch and release. The boy keened below him, making the loveliest noises and squeezing Thorin with his inner muscles as Thorin pounded into him. Thorin groaned, imagining his seed dripping down from freshly debauched hole, the first seed the boy ever had.

“I know many ways to make you feel this way all night, boy. I can use my fingers, my tongue, my cock, or your precious toy to make you scream,” Thorin whispered to his ear a dark promise. Below him, the slave whimpered. “I could take you to the edge over and over again but you won’t be able to come, you won’t even be hard, not unless you speak.” Thorin paused, burying his face in dark hair as he felt his control began to slip away. He pounded into his slave all the harder, intent on finding his peak. “Your name, boy.”

“Kili!” The slave gasped out, sharp and loud.

Thorin frowned. The name was vaguely familiar but he didn’t currently have enough presence of mind to think about it. Though he wished for nothing more than to come now inside the slave-Kili-Thorin kept his promise. He stopped and quickly unlocked the padlock using the key Thranduil had given him. The moment the cage came off, Thorin stroked Kili’s cock, It didn’t take long to bring it to a full stand and make it drip seed. Thorin twisted his hand, listening to the series of ‘ _oh, oh, oh_ ’ as the slave’s cock filled for the first time after a long period of confinement. Only then did Thorin resume pounding the slave, watching the slack youthful face in the throes of passion.

“Kili,” He breathed. He knew that name somewhere. “Come for me.”

With a loud cry, Kili did, spilling over Thorin’s hand to cover his and Thorin’s torsos with thick ropes of cum. Thorin didn’t stop stroking him and slamming into him, intent on bringing him the greatest orgasm of his life, ruining him for other men and rewarding him for his honesty. Finally, when the boy squirmed and whimpered in oversensitivity, Thorin let him go and came. He groaned as he filled Kili with his seed, the force of his orgasm making his tremble.

It was then, as he undulated his hips and his cock spurted copious amount of semen into the youth that Thorin remembered. He gasped, partly in shock and partly in pleasure, but couldn’t stop how he screwed himself deeper into the boy, animalistic urge pushing him to ensure he had lay his claim deep inside Kili. His arms failed to support him and he fell on top of Kili while they panted for breath. Thorin blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to absorb the reality, regret filling him. He had played right into Thranduil’s cruel game.

Eventually, when he had softened, Thorin carefully withdrew from Kili. A quick examination told him that although puffy, the entrance didn’t seem to be injured. It was but a small relief. Thorin wrapped a fabric around his waist and called Dwalin.

The warrior entered immediately. He glanced at the bed behind Thorin where Kili desperately tried to cover himself, but didn’t comment, focusing instead on Thorin. “Did the boy speak?”

Thorin nodded. “Send our fastest messenger to Erebor and tell our army to come here. Also tell our soldiers here to be ready for a battle but make sure not to draw attention from Thranduil’s army. When everything was ready, I want you to free the captured people of Ered Luin. Are they here?” Thorin asked Kili over his shoulder.

Kili looked surprised but nodded nonetheless. “Yes. They are west of the soldiers’ camp.”

“Is there any relative of yours here?”

Lowering his eyes, Kili shook his head. “No. They’ve all been killed,” He said quietly.

Thorin watched him for a moment before turning back to Dwalin. “Make sure that they all escape safely before battle starts. Thranduil will certainly not be pleased,” Thorin said.

Dwalin nodded. “I will send the message immediately. If they march at night, our soldiers will arrive in the morning of our departure. I suggest we free those people the night before, when our soldiers are close enough to help but haven’t been detected by Thranduil’s army.” He waited for Thorin’s approval before asking, “Why this sudden decision to have war?”

“Because they have dishonored Prince Kili of Ered Luin by enslaving him. No royalty should ever be humiliated in such a way, regardless of whether or not his kingdom has been conquered and demolished.”

Dwalin seemed taken aback, looking at Kili in disbelief, but his loyalty stopped him from questioning Thorin’s words. Unlike Thranduil, Thorin would not lie to start wars. If he said that this was a war to avenge the prince of Ered Luin, then it must be true.

“I will tell Balin about this development.”

Thorin nodded. “And bring me the keys to Prince Kili’s collar and shackles,” he ordered.

“Yes, My King,” Dwalin said. He then bowed to Thorin then Kili before taking his leave.

Once Dwalin had gone, Kili spoke without being prompted for the first time. “Why did you do that?” He asked.

“To restore your honor,” Thorin replied, causing embarrassment and annoyance to fleet across the prince’s face. He knew Kili would argue for his pride so he interrupted him when Kili opened his mouth. “And because Thranduil needs to be stopped. He has caused enough suffering with his greed.”

Thiswas a reason Kili seemed to accept. He nodded grimly. “He must be stopped,” He said, his voice cracking slightly.

Thorin swallowed thickly, thinking of the suffering the prince had had to endure. His kingdom had been destroyed and the survivors were used to force him into slavery. No doubt there had been many manners of cruelty and degradation he had been subjected to before Thorin came to add to his insult. Thorin regretted falling for Thranduil’s ploy to humiliate the fallen prince but it was done and there’s nothing he could do about it. Thorin sat on the bedside and was relieved when Kili didn’t move away. He still tensed and looked at Thorin cautiously, but it was the least Thorin deserved after what he had done.

“I cannot give you back your kingdom; it has been destroyed. It’s also not safe for a prince without a kingdom to wander alone; there are far too many people like Thranduil out there who would take advantage of you. But, I can offer you to stand by my throne.”

Kili looked wary of the proposal. “As your slave?”

Thorin shook his head. “As my charge and my equal.”

“At what price?”

It would be a lie to say that Thorin no longer wanted him in his bed. Bruises and marks just started to be visible on Kili’s skin and the vivid memory of those legs around him and of being inside Kili arose, stirring his lust again. But, wise kings learnt from their mistakes and Thorin had a great mistake to atone for.

“Your companionship.” He stopped and then decided to be honest. Kili deserved to know the truth. “And more, but only if you’re willing.”

Thorin quietly waited for Kili to think of his offer carefully. He wanted to make amends for his faults but he wouldn’t blame Kili if he refused. After all, many had witnessed him humiliating the prince during the celebration and ordering the prince to be taken to his tent. Even if Thorin hadn’t touched him and allowed Dwalin or Balin to interrogate him, it was that announcement which would be remembered-it was him who had dishonored the prince. No. What Thorin wanted was inconsequential in this situation. Kili would be allowed to make his decision and Thorin would respect it.

Kili exhaled quietly, drawing Thorin’s attention. “I agree,” He said in resignation.

While his heart leapt in gladness, Thorin kept quiet. His sin would be absolved when the resignation disappeared, when he had been been gifted with Kili’s trust and forgiveness, but it was not tonight. For now, there’s battle to prepare for. He could only hope that by winning he would come one step closer to gaining Kili’s grace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thorin’s morality in this fic disturbed me as I wrote it because he’s ok with slavery and treating slaves badly but he’s against degrading fellow royalties by enslaving them. But. I never claim to write saints, so there you have the sort-of-kind-but-with-a-but Thorin!
> 
> The sequel can be found here [Dishonored](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3667293)


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